WBY - Montford Military Academy
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: Jamie and River Winchester are on a hunt AND under cover at a military academy. Sam, Dean and Gramps are off campus and the boys are mostly on their own. Will they make it without too much trouble? Will contain spanking. This is the first of what I hope will be a multi chap. Let me know if it's worth continuing! It's a little different then my other stuff so...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Montford Military Academy

Jamie and River Winchester are on a hunt AND under cover at a military academy. Sam, Dean and Gramps are off campus and the boys are mostly on their own. Will they make it without too much trouble? Will contain spanking.

Jamie pulled his cover down over dark auburn hair and looked at himself in the mirror. He figured he looked okay. Slate gray uniform with bright gold buttons on the lapels and neatly button down the front of his uniform jacket. In the middle of his was an insignia of sorts, wheat he thought and the initials MMA in bold gold to match the buttons. His shirt was bright white and his tie black, knotted appropriately at his neck. His name tag said _J. Winchester_ and was strategically and carefully positioned over his right chest. His pants were the same gray as his jacket but with a darker gray stripe down both legs and his shoes where polished glossy leather. The white braid that hung over his right shoulder was kind of gaudy, but there was nothing to be done about that. Not too shabby, if he did say so himself.

He looked at his cousin who lay on his rack across from Jamie. River was scowling as only he could do, blonde brows furrowed in anger. He too was dressed like Jamie except his hat was carelessly lying at the bottom of his bed and his jacket unbuttoned haphazardly. He did have his tie on but it was loosened almost to his third button. All of that lent a bedraggled air to River. The one thing that actually looked military was his hair cut. Short, spikey and obviously very, very new.

"This sucks," River stated the obvious.

"It's not so bad." Jamie offered, casually brushing his hand down his shoulder at some piece of imagined dirt.

"Says Military Boy." River half snarled.

"It's only temporary. A few months Dad said."

"Well shearing me like a damn sheep_ isn't_ temporary." Then as if to prove a point, River ran his hand through his short hair.

Jamie snorted, "Since when doesn't hair grow back."

"It's the principle of the thing. I didn't buy into this crap." The last part was stated needlessly as it was obvious where River's thoughts were in regard to Montford Military Academy.

"I know you aren't happy, Riv, but if you don't get off your bed and get your uniform on right, you are going to be in a boat load of shit with The Trio and the Barracks CO. If not the Commandant."

"And I care why?" River glared at Jamie.

"Because maybe our folks will give us a free pass, but I doubt it considering we are supposed to blend here. But if they don't, I'm quite sure there are military protocols for looking like something the cat dragged in." Jamie chuckled to himself, thinking of their barn cat Godzilla who while he could not physically drag River, he could do enough damage with tooth and claw to make anyone appear at least scruffy.

"In fact," Jamie continued, "I'm sure there are. Did you take a look at the SOPs?"

River's scowl folded into a look of disgust, eyes narrowing at Jamie, "Seriously."

Jamie glanced at himself in the mirror. "Dude, seriously. We are supposed to be here as part of the Cadre. You and I are should be pretty well-versed with military protocol considering we came from Valley Forge Military Academy."

River growled, "You do realize that neither of us has even been Valley Forge Café and Diner?"

Jamie snorted, a decidedly Winchester sound, and tilted his head at River, mouth pursed just a bit.

"Y'know, it would be nice if you would at least try to fit in."

"I'm here aren't I?" River interjected helpfully.

"Look it's a few months…that's all and when we figure out who, if anyone is haunting the place, well then we will be out of here. Besides, how often are we really hunting on our own. No parents around to report to every waking moment. Since The Trio can't blend here no matter what and are stuck in a no-tell motel with the townies, it's kind of like a vacation. The only person who knows we are here and under cover is the janitor."

River's eyebrows shot up, "You consider this a vacation?"

"Well, not exactly," Jamie admitted, "But we are on our own, except for checking in with the folks. They are depending on us to handle the research on our own and I wouldn't be surprised if we aren't able to actually finish the hunt on our own. I mean, if there even is a ghost…I'm quite sure we can handle the salt and burn of a twelve year old boy."

"And that Jamie-boy is where I beg to differ. The Trio said specifically RESEARCH. Not kill."

Jamie grinned, "They also said we were to maintain our cover as young military cadets and you are so far from that…"

Jamie's speech was interrupted by a brief knock on the door and the bellowing voice of the Drill Sergeant, "TEN HUT!"

Jamie, already standing, racked his shoulders back and briskly stood at attention.

River fell out of bed.

The DS glanced quickly at Jamie, offered no "At ease" but instead turned his attention to River, who for his part, was trying to scramble to his feet. Not so much because the DS was standing over him, more because it reminded him of Gramps.

"Don't bother Winchester. Give me twenty and sound off."

River, however unmilitary he might be, was very familiar with pushups as a punishment. He was also very good. His form was immaculate and he knew it. Twenty up and downs, briskly counting them off, "Twenty." He ended, not even breathing heavy.

"What did you say?" the DS growled obviously agitated at River's apparent fitness level.

River flicked an eye in Jamie's direction. His question obvious. Jamie didn't answer but arched a brow toward River.

"Sir?"

"Do I look like an officer to you?" the DS yelled.

River thought it a loaded question. "You are wearing a uniform, sir." River thought the "sir" was a good idea. Another bit of training courtesy of the Winchesters.

"You will refer to me as DRILL SERGEANT."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you damaged in some way, boy?" the Drill Sergeant asked his voice almost as low as Gramps'.

"Uh, no,s…Drill Sergeant."

"Get your rack made up and meet me on the drill field in ten. And if you don't come appropriately dressed for military drills, then you can expect to spend the next three hours running. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir.." River stumbled again, four years of answering his family was hard to shut off, "Yes, Drill Sergeant."

"And you." The Drill Sergeant pointed at Jamie. "If you are smart, you will get your cousin under control. You two are roomates and a member of the brotherhood of cadets. Whatever he does, it will become your problem. Do_ you_ understand?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant." Jamie answered briskly.

"And next time I see you two, I better see a salute."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant." Jamie and River answered together.

The door slammed heavy and hard.

Jamie looked at River and River at Jamie.

It looked like things were going to be rough for the Winchester boys.


	2. Chapter 2

River wandered down the tree lined path, ornamental pear blossoms fluttering past him like snow flakes. Ordinarily, he would have taken a few moments to appreciate them. To appreciate this campus. MMA was a gorgeous school, old stately brick buildings and walkways, grass free from debris and even foot steps. (River felt sure there were definitely some kind of punishment awarded for touching shoes to the pristine lawn) He'd always enjoyed architecture and the visual artistry that often accompanied older institutions. He supposed he was a geek in that way.

However on this occasion he barely noticed.

He was on his way to the commandant's office. His offense being that for the third time today he'd been disciplined for the sad state of affairs that was his uniform. Only a half a day as an MMA Cadet and he was already in hot water.

God these people were picky.

The punishment for his inability to dress himself like all the other cadets was pushups. Each set of pushups had been increased by twenty and River figured that the DS figured by the time he had reached a total of 120 that most kids would have learned. Apparently most kids weren't River. Truthfully though, he got the message loud and clear but chose to ignore it. It was bad enough that his shoulder length hair had been cut, it was just an added affront that now he had to wear a uniform. Not only wear it, but wear it exactly like everyone else. River could have told the DS that pushups were hardly any deterrent for him. River could, and often did 120 pushups in a day. He supposed that the physical punishment tended to encourage most other Cadets to follow protocol but River had merely shrugged and hit the dirt. Or in this case, the gorgeous green carpet of grass.

Finally the DS had scowled exasperatedly and had sent him to the Commandant's office muttering under his breath about kids who were too damn fit to take punishment like men.

River had shrugged again and had headed off to the Commandant's office. There was little he could do to change anyone's mind about it. Jamie hadn't even been able to break ranks to give him advice. Not that he needed advice…but he could tell that despite Jamie's adaptation to military life, his cousin was agitated at not being able to at least accompany River to see Commandant Fraser.

River was smart enough to know that a Commandant was like a Head Master or maybe a principal. He wondered briefly if anyone had been sent to the head honcho on the first day of class. Probably not, he doubted that anyone was as stubborn as he was. Except for maybe Jamie and for all Jamie's stubbornness, he tended to follow the rules.

Usually.

The brick lined path and flowering rhododendron, _as opposed to the ornamental pear,_ that lead to the Commandant's office were misleading. They were pink and fragile looking, a complete contrast to the imposing brick building with marble accents. A young man, maybe a little younger than River walked down the steps and then stopped, glaring at River.

"Do you see these bars?" The boy snapped gesturing at his collar.

"Yes." River answered.

"Yes, SIR!" the boy bellowed

"Yes, SIR!" River parroted but his eyes held no deference.

"These bars, Cadet," the boy grabbed his lapel and shook it vigorously in River's direction, "mean I am a Lieutenant and as such I expect a salute when I pass." The boy bristled with indignation.

River shook his head slowly, noticing the Lieutenant's name plate_, L. Berner._ He would remember this turd come hell or high water. These kids were the poster children of power tripping. River did however, raise his right hand into what he assumed was a salute. He'd watched enough movies to at least get the gist of it. Besides, a salute, no matter how poorly executed would be better than calling Berner dickhead.

"Very sloppy, Cadet. If I wasn't under time constraints I would write you up!" The boy, _ahem Lieutenant, _sniffed haughtily and returned the salute, crisp and sharp.

Unable to think of any reply to his obvious lack in military decorum, River simply said, "Yes, sir." and continued on into the building.

Once inside, he removed his hat, River corrected himself_, his cover_ and placed it under his right arm. He wasn't sure if that was correct or not, but wearing his baseball hat in front of Gramps in the house sometimes got him a sharp rap on the head. If Gramps would whack him for a baseball hat, Lord knew what these crazy people would do for wearing a freaking cover inside.

There was a large formal semi-circular desk at the front of the entrance of the building with a uniformed man there. A grown man at least as old as River's grandfather. He figured the guy was the secretary…or whatever passed for a secretary in this place. He didn't recognize the insignia on his collar and the thought of getting it wrong, irritated the crap out of him

"I'm here to see the Commandant, sir." River stated, hoping he was correct. At least the man was indeed a man and as such, addressing him as sir couldn't be too bad.

The man looked up and over his eyeglasses, pale blue eyes scanning River up and down. "You're new here." It wasn't a question so River didn't answer. "First day and you are here to see The Old Man."

"Not sure, sir." River tentatively began.

"Oh, you'll be sure enough after." The man grinned but it didn't look like he was upset or angry.

"Name's Gunny. Just Gunny. No need to sir me or call me Gunnery Sergeant. I'm the only gunny here so I figure I can make my own rules up on this one. Besides, I'm older than the Commandant too." His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "But Old Man has been the nick name of every Commandant who has been here since I've been here and I'm older than dirt. Word of warning kid, do not call him 'Old Man' to his face."

"No, Gunny." River agreed, "I am dumb but not stupid."

"Well, that remains to be seen, " Gunny said again looking as if he could barely contain a smile.

Suddenly emboldened by the pleasantries River asked, "Why are you so happy, Gunny? You like seeing kids get sent to the principal's office?"

"Nope, just no one has come her first day in quite a while."

"And when did it happen last?" River asked suddenly curious.

"About 50 year ago."

River looked at the gunny, he was old alright but 50 years ago?

Gunny laughed then, "It was me."

River didn't know how to answer that but he grinned.

"Go on in Winchester, knock first."

River knocked on the door and opened it to the Commandant's office. _Well, here goes nothing._

Apparently, his military career was soon to be over

Sloppy saluting is a very clear reflection of your lack of personal pride and respect in the Auxiliary and the Coast Guard. It is also appropriate to accompany your salute with "Good Morning Sir or Ma'am" depending on the situation. Officers who are at the rank of Commander or above are usually addressed by their rank i.e., "Good Morning Commander Jones" or "Good afternoon Admiral Smith". You can never go wrong by using "Sir" or "Ma'am", but it is a nice touch if you can properly address a senior officer.

the salute is saluting the rank and uniform of the wearer, out of respect to the grade, and to honor the history of the organization and that uniform.

Failure or refusal to render a proper salute is a clear sign of disrespect and dishonor to the uniform, to the organization, and to the individual. Failure or refusal is not an acceptable practice in the Coast Guard or Auxiliary

Navy boot camp.

Company drill instructor.

'You are the lowest of the low until you leave this command. If it MOVES, you salute it!'

If it's on the ground, pick it up.

If it moves, salute it.

If it doesn't move, paint it.

Carry on.

2. It kept me from dealing with the inevitable ball of shit rolling downhill when the officer felt he was disrespected


	3. Chapter 3

River wasn't sure what a commandant's office should look like. He'd only had experience with principals. To be truthful, even his experience with principals were pretty limited. With principals' office there was always the obligatory dying plant in the window, if there was a window. There was always the sturdy metal desk; once in a while a fancy school district had a battered wooden one. Of course there was always the tacky nameplate with the adhesive backing that was often falling off. Sometimes River had noticed the glob of Super Glue holding it together, other times the principal hadn't even bothered.

But this office?

This was nice.

The walls were wood, old but polished to a deep glow. There were brass plaques decorating the walls. River's vision was excellent, some of the oldest ones dated back to the 1800s. He couldn't read the names under the years, but he assumed they were cadets who had in some way, shape or fashion been exceptional. He glanced at the desk, mahogany that gleamed so bright he saw his own reflection in it. There were flags; MMA, the State flag and the American flag, smaller than the ones outside on the quad but beautifully presented with brass fittings. He wondered if there was an automatic vent system that could be turned on to complete the picture. At the touch of a button they could be expected to flutter on command. The thought made him smile a bit.

Then there was Commandant Fraser

The man was about his uncle's size, facing one of the large arched windows, overlooking the Quad. He wore his uniform as if it was an extension of his body. His posture was erect and his shoulders back but he looked oddly comfortable in a position that should have been uncomfortable. Fraser didn't turn, didn't address River although River was quite sure he knew he was there. How could he not?

River cleared his throat in what he thought was an unobtrusive way. He stood at Attention, something he had only learned since he had become a Winchester and even then it was the Winchester version, not exactly military but with enough Marine in it that he could pull it off fairly easily.

Fraser didn't turn but continued to look out the window, surveying his domain like a General surveying his troops. Which wasn't too far off course, thought River.

"Is that how you address your Commandant?" Fraser's voice rumbled low with a trace of rebuke.

"No, sir," River stated simply. He kept his voice steady. Just because the man wore a uniform and apparently thought of himself as God, River wasn't going to buy into it. He was comfortable with token respect because Gramps had beat it into him, but Fraser's lack of attention to River's entrance just proved that, in this particular instance, respect was in no way reciprocal. And Gramps, although a stickler for respect, did give it back to River and Jamie.

Then, because River was pissed enough to feel like it he went on, "I am unable to see your insignia from the back, sir."

Fraser snorted just a bit, a low sound that River was unsure if was amusement or indifference.

"However, Winchester, you've been sent to the Commandant's office for discipline. I hope you are not stupid enough to think that the janitor would be involved." Fraser continued to look out the window, back to River.

"No, sir…but I haven't met any janitors yet so I don't know what their uniforms might look like, nor do I know their job duties."

Fraser turned then and without any trace of what River thought might have been amusement earlier, glared at River.

"You boy, are insubordinate and a smart ass. I don't like that."

"Yes, sir," River stated again. It wasn't a question but he felt like maybe he should answer it. Besides he was insubordinate and a smart ass.

"Neither trait is good in a soldier."

"I'm not a soldier, I'm a boy."

"That's where you are wrong Winchester. As long as you are a cadet here at MMA, you are in fact a soldier. You will follow the orders of your superiors, you will respect the uniform and the rank."

River sighed. _Here we go._

Fraser stalked to the desk like a cat and yet never once appeared to be unmilitary in his movement. It seemed a contradiction, catlike versus military. Then again if you wanted to be a good soldier, _or for that matter a good hunter,_ then you needed to move quietly. River didn't have a lot of experience with cats except for Godzilla the barn cat, but Godzilla was pretty quiet, except when he was tearing a helpless rat or mouse into pieces so why not Fraser?

The thought of Fraser disemboweling River like a mouse gave him a moment's pause.

"I have been looking at your records, Winchester. Apparently, you were quite the trouble maker at Valley Forge Military Academy, unlike your cousin I might add."

River wondered for a moment what kind of made up records had been orchestrated by Uncle Bobby. They had discussed the fact that River would be the bad kid and Jamie the good. It made sense, River was intrinsically non-military and as such would be more likely to screw up. That being said, no one expected everything to go to hell in a hand basket this soon.

"I have made some judgment errors in the past, sir." River thought that would pretty much cover whatever he "did" at his other military school.

"And it's pretty obvious your are continuing that tradition here at Montford," Fraser moved to his desk but didn't yet take a seat. "I don't like you Winchester. I don't like your attitude. I don't like the way you present yourself and I especially don't like boys who come to my institution and within a few hours are being sent here to see _me._"

"May I speak freely?" River tried to be as military as he could.

"No."

"Okay then, I suppose I will just have to speak the way I want to speak." River took a deep breath, "I find it hard to believe that you have already singled me out as a trouble maker, especially based on information from another school but that is your prerogative. It does seem silly though that the reason I have been sent here, to your office, is because the DS couldn't break me down with pushups. I'm fit,_ sir_ and that is one of the things that makes me a good _soldier_." River leaned on the word, put some extra weight on it. "Your method of discipline is antiquated and inadequate, that is unless most of the Cadets here are weaklings. In which case, you are doing everything right."

Fraser's face turned crimson shocked at River's audacity.

"Fine, Winchester. We have other methods of punishment."

River shrugged. Laps? Extra homework? Take away the non-existent sound system in his room? There was nothing Fraser could do. River cared nothing about MMA or Fraser or anything else except looking for a ghost that may or may not be here at this school. He hadn't expected getting in trouble for not having his uniform correct but their constant and ludicrous bullshit on the damn subject just made him angrier and more stubborn not to conform. He hadn't cursed anyone, hadn't slugged anyone, hadn't bothered anyone but here he was standing at Attention in the Commandant's office because he refused to follow their damn marching ant mentality.

Fraser tightened his lips and furrowed his brows then gave River a withering look. "This is not charades, Cadet. Do not shrug your shoulders at me. I did not give you the order 'At ease' so you are to remain at Attention until I tell you otherwise." His voice wasn't raised but River could hear the warning.

"Yes, sir."

Fraser turned again toward the window, taking a few deep breaths but seemed composed and resolute.

River stood.

It felt like forever, River rolled his shoulders, fairly confident that Fraser couldn't see, since he was in the opposite direction. While the pushups hadn't bothered him, his shoulders were stiff from standing at Attention and River had never been particularly patient.

Nor prone to keep his mouth shut.

"Sir, may I be dismissed?"

"Did I say so?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, you have your answer."

Fraser left the window and went to sit down at his desk. He pulled a file out and began reading it. River was facing him, not five feet in front of him, still at Attention and getting angrier by the minute. He was trying to help this moron out, even though the dumb shit didn't know it. He had a job to do, and standing in front of Fraser AT ATTENTION for what appeared to be going for an eternity was not what he had in mind for the night.

River sighed in frustration, "Sir.."

Fraser stood and growled. "Are you dim witted boy?"

River tuned his face to Fraser's, River's blue eyes finding the older man's slate gray. Eyeballing your CO was a dumb move.

He didn't care.

"I am not dim witted, nor am I 'damaged' as the DS stated earlier. I am however tired and I've had enough."

"Hardly, young man. You were sent here to be disciplined and I was expecting only keep you at Attention for a bit, make you learn a little respect, however, you apparently seem to think that I will tolerate this insubordination. I assure you – I will not."

River sighed again.

Fraser rose from his desk and headed to a dark wood closet that although River had seen, he hadn't recognized it as a closet. It had been cleverly built into the wall and with the kind of carpentry that had long since vanished with the horse and buggy. River could only see Fraser's back, but the man was obviously thinking about something, making a determination. He made his decision and reached in the closet then turned to River.

To River's amazement he held what looked like a light tan stick.

"I'm quite sure you are not familiar with this, if you were I imagine your behavior would be better than it is."

River tilted his head quizzically. Most definitely not Attention.

"This," said Fraser, "is known as a cane. Not really like a cane for walking you see, it's thin and this one especially is flexible. It is a means of discipline."

River narrowed his eyes. He'd heard of paddles, been smacked by a belt once in a while, spooned here and there, but most often his family tended to spank with their hands. He did remember once when Gramps was so mad he'd grabbed the clicker and tried to spank River with that. It didn't hold up well against River's hard Winchester ass. The TV had remained inoperable for a week unless someone would walk over to it and turn it on. In typical masculine fashion, no one wanted to, instead they spent the week scowling at the lack of a clicker, giving Gramps the stink eye and blaming River for it the whole time.

It didn't matter that Gramps was the one who tried wallop his ass with it.

But this?

Fraser swished it quickly through the air and although River didn't really hear it whistle, he could have thought he did.

"Winchester, place yourself over the desk please."

"Sir?"

"The desk. Lean over it and present your rear end for punishment."

"Sir?"

Fraser glowered, "I know you say that you are not dumb, dim-witted or damaged but for the life of me, I seem to think there really is a problem." He continued on gesturing vaguely in River's direction, "You may keep your uniform on, although a part of me feels like since you have been unable to wear it correctly all day, losing your pants should not be a problem."

River thought quickly. Yes, he didn't care for Fraser, MMA or anything. Yes, he could walk out and keep on walking…but walking out would mean blowing his cover and he was far too good a hunter to do that. Besides in terms of physical punishment, he'd been spanked by all the Trio at some time since he joined this family. He'd never been spanked by a non-family member, unless you considered the time JR's dad walloped him and not one Winchester had begrudged Jeff Banner the ass kicking that he delivered to River, Jamie and his own son that night. No,Jeff Banner wasn't family but he was close enough. He was also the local authority. Yes, Fraser was authority, or at least authority at MMA but he wasn't authority as far as River was concerned. This was ridiculous. Then again, how bad could it be? He'd been whacked by the best.

So he stepped over to the desk, bent over and waited for Fraser to start smacking. River never liked waiting for a spanking, he figured no one he knew did, but this felt worse somehow. He was sprawled over the desk, palms open and resting on that solid mahogany when he noticed it. A plaque placed at what was eye level when leaning over Fraser's desk.

In Memory of Jeremiah MacDonald

Tragically lost to his family at MMA in the year of our Lord, 1892.

He was small and young but a good soldier.

Taken from these hallowed halls before his time at the age of eleven.

Rest in Peace, little brother.

The plaque was old, but as neatly polished and cared for as the others in the room. It seemed that a lot of the older plaques were placed lower than the newer ones but River figured with as many kids who had lived on this campus in the past hundred and twenty years of it's existence. It shouldn't be surprising that they were placed in this order. Despite his compromising position, he wondered about Jeremiah, poor kid died when he was eleven and in this hell hole….River jumped when the cane sliced across his buttocks. It literally took his breath away.

"A little warning would be nice," River ground out.

"A little less mouth would be better," Fraser growled.

River didn't move but instead braced himself for the next swish of cane on ass. Fraser placed it directly below the first stripe, although how he knew where to place it, River couldn't guess. He wasn't naked and there was no visible stripe but apparently Fraser had done this more than once.

The third was the hardest. The switch crossed over the other two and at the meeting places where switchline met switchline it was if scathing ball of fire had settled at those intersections. Oh the rest hurt alright and the last hurt the most but those two areas of double licking, small though they were hurt like a sonofabitch.

River blew hard through pursed lips, trying not to hyperventilate. He breathed deeply and once again his eyes caught Jeremiah's plaque. 1892. He hoped Jeremiah had never been subjected to an ass kicking like this! He'd just been a little kid!

"Mr. Winchester, you may get up and take yourself back to your quarters. Be thankful you only received three stripes, your behavior while just in this office warrants at least that, however, since this is your first day - I am being lenient. Against my better judgement, I might add. Mess hall will begin in exactly 43 minutes. Long enough for you to collect any missed work you may have had neglected to pick up. Please make sure you are properly dressed for dinner. Dismissed." 

Fraser didn't say anything else but River decided another licking like the one he just got was going to be avoided at all cost. Fraser was by no means his father, or Uncle Dean or Gramps for that matter, but maybe because he _wasn't_ any of those people, the spanking felt worse somehow. That was a strange situation because getting yelled at, spanked or hell even given the stink eye by his family always hurt. It hurt his heart . This spanking hurt only his ass and it felt like, since Fraser really had nothing invested in him, it was less painful in some ways but hurt more in others. If his father had spanked him, it would have been just as harder or harder physically but knowing that he did it BECAUSE he loved him made it both easier and more difficult in equal measure. River was so caught up in his own head with the philosophical discussions on spanking that he almost forgot to salute.

Almost.

But he didn't, mostly because although he called bullshit on the whole damn place, he was also not stupid and if it made Fraser happy to salute then River would.

XXX

Jamie was sitting in their room with a book ostentatiously called "Napoleon Bonaparte, from the Napoleonic Wars to Waterloo: A Strategic Guide of Military Brilliance and Defeat."

What he was really looking at was a handwritten journal that he had found in the dusty archives of what passed for as a library on campus. The library had very little in the way of fiction, focusing on military history. MMA's light reading consisted of stories of war and the caliber of automatic weapons.

Jamie knew all the weapons in any case, and the war he was fighting had nothing to do with military prowess, that is unless somehow it was a military ghost haunting this place. Jamie stroked softly the journal softly, hands brushing the leather with fondness. He was fortunate to have found it. While he was not as good at researching as his Uncle Sam and even River was becoming better with a computer than he was, he held a perverse idea that he was pretty damn good at research, especially when it involved old books. Somehow he thought he got it from Gramps. It must have skipped a generation or maybe just skipped his dad because although his father was no slouch in researching, he really hated it. He pulled his "I'm the oldest" ploy to this day when he and Uncle Sam were both given the job of research. He just pawned it off on his little brother and went off to shoot things. If he could pull it off. Uncle Sam wasn't a rat but he got pissed occasionally at doing all the legwork and then there would be some pounding of brother on brother and then Gramps would step in and…

Well it never ended pretty.

Uncle Sam enjoyed researching and although Jamie wouldn't admit it, he did too. Something about having a specific idea and then teasing the information out whether by computer or a newspaper or an old handwritten book. Putting the pieces together was fun and challenging. He had to admit when he was a bit younger he was less inclined to want to research, but now he found it extremely satisfying.


	4. Chapter 4

MMA part 4

Jamie was sitting in their room with a book ostentatiously called "Napoleon Bonaparte, from the Napoleonic Wars to Waterloo: A Strategic Guide of Military Brilliance and Defeat."

What he was really looking at was a handwritten journal that he had found in the dusty archives of what passed for as a library on campus. The library had very little in the way of fiction, focusing on military history. MMA's light reading consisted of stories of war and the caliber of automatic weapons.

Jamie knew all about weapons, and the war he was fighting had nothing to do with military prowess, that is unless somehow it was a military ghost haunting this place. Jamie stroked the journal softly, hands brushing the leather with fondness. He was fortunate to have found it. While he was not as good at researching as his Uncle Sam and even River was becoming better with a computer than he was, he held a perverse idea that he was pretty damn good at it, especially when it involved old books. Somehow he thought he got it from Gramps. It must have skipped a generation or maybe just skipped his dad because although his father was no slouch in researching, he really hated it. He pulled his "I'm the oldest" ploy to this day when he and Uncle Sam were both given the job of research. He just pawned it off on his little brother and went off to shoot things. If …he could pull it off. Uncle Sam wasn't a rat but he got pissed occasionally at doing all the legwork and then there would be some pounding of brother on brother and then Gramps would step in and…

Well it never ended pretty.

So Uncle Sam enjoyed researching and although Jamie wouldn't admit it, he did too. Something about having a specific idea and then teasing the information out whether by computer or a newspaper or an old handwritten book. Putting the pieces together was fun and challenging. He had to admit when he was a bit younger he was less inclined to want to research, but now he found it extremely satisfying.

He traced his finger down the journal's entries. It wasn't a hunter's journal, that was for sure, it was more like a diary.

The entries were old, very old and handwritten, the ink sometimes almost faded to gray. The paper was weathered and tinged in yellow the way old books sometimes looked. He found it odd that he had managed to find such a historical document in the library. Usually these things were in cases or atmosphere protected rooms to preserve the integrity of the pages. Then again, maybe MMA could care less about a diary from the 1800s.

The diary didn't offer much in the way of information as to who wrote it. It was a kid, that much was pretty obvious. He signed his entries with an M. Jamie read them in bits and pieces, skimming through the mundane, the day to day living of a cadet back in the 1800s. He found it intriguing. This boy had been alive over 100 years ago and yet some of his ideas and thoughts were just as true now as it was then. An entry caught his eye and he read.

_September 18, 1896_

_I write this for myself, as I doubt that anyone else would believe me. While I feel privileged to have been given the opportunity to be educated in such a fine school, I find that this institution is often times a very terrifying place. Rabbie would laugh at me so I keep my thoughts in this diary. I am young, but I am not stupid. Rabbie isn't ill tempered or cruel, he is just an older brother and that is what older brothers do. They torment and taunt._

_Rabbie is a commander in the Cadre of Cadets and I am but one of the boys with no rank and nothing to call my own except the few books that Father gave me as a gift when I was sent away to school. I can not blame Father for sending us to Montford, Rabbie had made Montford his home before me and when Father was deployed to France, well, there was no one to keep me. I have been here since I was six, like Rabbie, but he is a full five years older than me and almost a man. Which is why I can't talk to him. He would think me childish and foolish. I am both childish and foolish at times and it finds me often in the Commandant's office at the receiving end of strap or cane._

_Montford is a wonderful school with impressive instructors, well versed in academics and military law. I am fond of the history but I must admit my Latin leaves quite a lot of room for improvement. Then there is the concept of duty above personal desires. I get the idea of such a thing, and I do understand it's importance, however, my personal desires sometimes get in the way. I have however, managed to avoid any Academic Probation. Father would sail back from France to tan my hide if such a thing should ever happen._

_Maybe that's why this journal is so helpful. Sometimes I feel like I have no one here to confide in. Father has always been a hard man, but a listener. Rabbie has his own friends and of course his duties as Commander. I have always enjoyed English and Composition. Rabbie laughs at that, stating of course I know English, it is our native tongue but Rabbie doesn't have my way with words. Even Captain Melvin, one of the toughest professors here at Montford says I am educated beyond my years when it comes to putting pen to paper. I really don't know about that, but I enjoy it and it helps sometimes to put my thoughts down._

_Besides, as I stated earlier in this entry, no one would believe me anyway._

_It is lights out now so until I write again,_

_M_

Jamie stilled after reading the entry. What was bothering M? He was just a kid, but he seemed to be a smart one. And despite his interest in writing, from this entry and others he had read, the boy didn't seem irrational or prone to lies, he didn't seem the sort to jump to conclusions or frighten easy. Jamie had known a girl in fifth grade who made up things just to feel important. M seemed to be a level headed kid. Jamie started in again on the journal when he heard the door open and River stepped into their room.

Jamie nodded his head at River, "Looking rough, cuz," he commented, closing the journal with a soft thud.

River grimaced, "Ya think?"

Jamie noticed with a quick glance that River was appropriately dressed. Tie neatly and carefully knotted into an ascot, shoes clean and bright and his shirt buttoned.

"What made you decide to stop the uniform revolution?"

"Fraser." River said simply.

Jamie thought for a moment, placing the name with a face he had seen when the boys were prepping for this hunt. Commandant. Former Marine. No nonsense, a younger version of Gramps maybe. Although not that much younger.

Jamie hadn't been able to go with River when the DS had pulled him from ranks, but he really hadn't expected to. Cousins or no, they were part of a military cadre now. Besides River didn't need Jamie to fight his battles for him.

That being said, it looked like River may have lost this particular one.

River sat down on his rack with apparent reluctance. It was a familiar sight.

"You got your ass beat?"

"Caned to be exact. What gave it away?"

Jamie grinned, "Well duh."

"I fucking hate this place." River said.

"Why because you got whupped? That's no difference then home, Riv."

"No, that's not why. Its…too confining, too judgmental and above all, my head looks like a cue ball."

"Nah," Jamie smiled running his hand through his own closely cropped dark auburn hair, "You look more like a porcupine."

River loosened his tie just a bit with a soft moan, "And that's so much better…" he muttered.

Jamie nodded in River's direction. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, Fraser hits like a girl."

Jamie arched an eyebrow at that.

"Okay, so maybe an Olympic Shot Put girl."

Jamie offered a Winchester snort of sympathy. "Got something to show you, Riv."

River stood, rolled his shoulders and adjusted his tie, "No time, James…we are off to mess and according to Fraser I had 43 minutes. Now I have twelve."

Jamie nodded, glanced briefly at the journal on the table and tightened his own tie.

It could wait.


	5. Chapter 5

MMA part 5

River decided not only did the school suck but the food did too. He noticed that Jamie didn't seem to notice, shoveling food or whatever MMA called food, in his mouth and talking at the same time.

"Not too bad" he commented with a grin, then, noticing River's lack of dining enthusiasm he asked with a mouthful of peas, "Hey are you going to eat that?" Jamie pointed with his fork at the non-descript meat like substance sitting on his plate. River eyed him disgustedly and pushed the glop over in Jamie's direction.

Jamie grabbed it with a satisfied smile.

"What is it?" River asked, both repulsed and curious in equal measure.

"Chicken…I think." Was Jamie's casual reply.

"I cannot believe we share genetics." River grimaced.

"So, "Jamie began, "other than get your ass beat, did you find out anything today?"

"No, nothing I didn't know and to be truthful, nothing I care to know."

Jamie seemed to mull that over a moment. "I found a cool book in the library."

River turned baleful eyes at Jamie, "A book…in the library…my aren't we the epitome of hunter exploration and analysis."

"A hunter's wet dream!" Jamie agreed enthusiastically.

Either Jamie was becoming slowly poisoned by the food or he really believed he had something. River rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's a cool book, but I don't know too much about it. It's just a feeling."

River nodded. Good. A feeling. They had so much to go on.

"Well, you look at your book and I'll keep sniffing around this God awful place. Hopefully, we will have something or nothing at all by the time we check in with The Trio.

"Sniff away!" Jamie shoved the remaining piece of mystery meat in his mouth, "Just keep your nose clean!"

River didn't even dignify that with an answer. He rose and headed back to their dorm, leaving his cousin to survive his dinner or not.

At least he knew why the military called it mess.


	6. Chapter 6

MMA part 6

_September 29, 1896_

_There is something dreadfully wrong here. I don't know what it is and I don't know why I am the only one who seems to be affected by it. I suppose it is possible other boys feel it and much like myself, refuse to tell anyone. Still, the rest of the Cadre marches on. Examinations are given. Punishment doled out. Rifle practice bragged about. These things all seem trivial to me, and yet I must participate in them._

_I did play hooky this morning during Latin. Playing hooky has such a childish sound to it, but the truth was I had been up all night and I just couldn't bring myself to participate in a class that seems so irrelevant. _

_There is not much information available regarding the sights I have been privy to here. The things I have seen could not be found or researched in the library. Then again, why should they be? Perhaps I am going insane. That would be one reason for hallucinations. And that is what this must be. Then again, what if that is not the case? That is why I have written my Grand Da in Ireland as he some experience with similar things. Or at least that is what Father said in the past. Not in those words really, more that Grand Da is momma's Da and that he is feeble minded. I am not sure exactly what type of ailment he has, but if it has something to do with the things I have seen of late, then his feeble-mindedness might well be madness. I feel as if I am going ma too. Perhaps I am genetically predisposed to madness. I don't know. Still, I hope that he might have some information for me._

_M_

_October 28, 1896_

_I have received word from my Grandfather. He is too ill to travel here but the tone of his letter was adamant. Grand Da says that the things I have been experiencing are real and dangerous and that All Hallows Eve or Samhain will be the time when things become even worse. I don't know how much worse they can get! I don't sleep, I barely eat and I feel as if I am in a fog most of the time. _

_I have been sent to the Commandant's office on four separate occasions, the last three culminating in thrashings. Being whipped for doing something wrong is one thing, I on the other hand, am being whipped for inattentiveness. I am inattentive because there is something terrible happening and I don't think I can figure it out, nor do I think I can talk to someone about it. Except my Grand Da and he is a world away._

_I shall give it a few more days, that is all I have anyway. Rabbie has promised not to write Father and I am appreciative of that. He is a good man and a good father but he will not be happy to learn of my trips to the Commandant. They are likely to result in a trip to the woodshed when he next visits. As much as I wish to avoid that at almost all costs, I'm afraid if I don't resolve the problem here, I shan't even be around to feel the licking._

_M_

The nape of Jamie's hair prickled. Whatever was happening with M might be coming to a head at Samhain. Suddenly the somewhat interesting subject matter of M's diary was becoming more likely to be an actual lead than just a kid's journal from the 1800s. He made a mental note that it was now November and that Samhain had already passed. But for M, the kid was heading into the time when the Celts believed the veil between death and life was at it's thinnest. They believed that ghosts and spirits could come and go at will. Sometimes, it was said, people in this world could travel to theirs. Jamie knew that the dead didn't need Samhain to walk the earth, but the fact was that increased paranormal activity was a given and poor M would be right in the middle of it. Jamie struggled for a moment trying to think of the Celtic Calendar and what time they would be in during November, for it was November now. Beltane was in the spring, October was Samhain. Both were fire festivals and linked with the dead. But November and December were known as…Dumannios – The Darkest Depths. He offered a silent prayer to Uncle Sam who insisted on all arcane knowledge associated with anything supernatural. When Jamie had been nine and irritated at having to learn the Celtic Calendar he could have kicked the man in the shins.

"I always thought of the "Darkest Depths" as deep winter or something like that…I mean it makes sense, the darkest depths of the year," Jamie wondered out loud, but maybe the name was far more sinister. What if the "Darkest Depths" had something to do with a supernatural situation. The lore didn't state that, at least not to his memory, but leave it to the Celts and Druids to throw a spin on their own freakin' festivals.

"River," Jamie turned to his cousin, "this kid M could somehow be involved in this hunt." Jamie tapped the leather bound book and glanced at his cousin.

"It's a damn diary Jamie. From the 1800s no less. Milk the cows, rope the goats, go to the privy to take a crap…what could it possibly have to do with the ghost we may or may not have here."

Jamie scowled, "First of all, smart ass, there were bathrooms in 1896, probably here at MMA too because this was a pretty fancy school then. Secondly, what's wrong with the supposition that the ghost has been around for over a hundred years? We've both seen ghosts as old or older."

"Oh, I don't know…maybe because this is the first we've heard of it? Doncha think an over 100 year old ghost would have made some kind of dent in the paranormal normal?"

"Just take a look okay?" Jamie slid his rolling chair in River's direction, thrusting the diary at him with little preamble. River scanned the entries quickly and then stared at Jamie with a blank look.

"Okay, so we've got a kid who says he's afraid of the dark and his admittedly 'feeble-minded' Grand Da from the old country has some stories about something supernatural that he believes is real. That's not a lot to go on Jamie."

"But it's what we got. – Besides, he should be afraid of the dark, you and I both know what's out there. "Jamie's voice had an edge to it, he couldn't help it. River knew better than this.

Jamie took another deep breath trying to slow his breathing down. Gramps did that often. Sometimes River was the recipient of the what they both thought of as "I'm gonna breathe before I kill 'em" exercise, other times it was Jamie. Oddly enough, once in a while it was his father or Uncle Sam who got the stink eye from Gramps. That made Jamie smile just a bit; it was sometimes hard to believe that Gramps was still the patriarch of the Winchesters. It wasn't just a title either; Gramps could make you follow orders with just a look, very seldom did he have to move into the realm of threat or promise. As cousins, it wasn't very often that they did it to each other.

It didn't work very well anyway. Still agitated Jamie spoke low, "We are here to check on a ghost dickhead. Someone - Dad or Uncle Sam or Gramps got wind of something through the grapevine and in case you are having a brain fart, that is why we are here checking this place out. There could be an old ghost here. There could be something else. How do we know? Besides this journal mentions Samhain. There could be a tie in."

"Samhain? Now we are going back to 16th century Druids?" River spoke disdainfully, "Samhain is over. All the little kiddies have finished TPing the yards and eaten enough candy to make themselves puke. It's November now so if Samhain had something to do with it, well it's a done deal." Then lower and almost as an afterthought, River muttered, "If there is a ghost in this craptastic school and I sincerely doubt it, it probably has to do with creepy Fraser and his closet of horrors."

That caused Jamie to eye roll River, "Dude, are you still holding an ass whippin' against the man, because you freakin' need to move on."

"Oh, that's riiight." River sneered, "Jamie Winchester, soldier supreme and teacher's pet would naturally be on the side of Commandant Klink."

"I'm not on anyone's side River, but you are plucking _my_ nerves and I like you." Jamie glared at River then added. "Usually." Jamie continued his tirade, "And if you would get just get your head out of your ass, you would realize that this kid M, is quite possibly the only lead we have. Hell, it is the_ only_ lead we have"

River furrowed his brow, "How can it be a lead if it is a hundred years old?"

Jamie wanted to smack him.

River flounced, literally flounced on his rack, obviously irritated at Jamie's insistence that they continue to give any credence to M and his stupid diary. They were both wearing the sleepwear provided by MMA. Boxer shorts and T shirts, army green and ugly but functional. True it was November but November in Georgia was not really all that cold and neither boy wanted to put on the "winter" sleep wear which consisted of the same under clothes but scratchy woolen pants and shirts. Jamie could care less about his night time "uniform" but River was obviously sick of at least the T-shirt and maybe sick of Jamie too. He pulled the green t-shirt over his head, balled it up and threw it on the floor.

"Seriously? You are having a temper tantrum? Would you like a pacie?" Jamie jeered.

River glared at Jamie balefully then jumped to his feet. Barefoot and shirtless he headed toward Jamie with intent.

"Bring it." Jamie said and it was on.

Both boys were well versed in fighting and killing. They very seldom tried to kill each other but they did fight frequently. Often it was under the guise of sparring but this was nothing of the sort. River threw a solid upper cut aimed at Jamie's chin. Jamie dodged but still felt the impact as River's slightly curled fist caught the corner of his brow. River had a longer reach but Jamie had long since learned how to deal with that. River knew it as well as Jamie and he stood well back bouncing on his toes. Jamie was faster than Riv though, he'd always been athletic and while River was no slacker in that department, he didn't have the speed and agility that constant hours of football, baseball and soccer had taught Jamie. River _swam,_ Jamie thought feeling childishly superior. Still, River was a really good swimmer. Yeah and that was great if they were in the water, River could outswim Jamie, that was true, but on land he was the proverbial fish out of water. Well, maybe not a fish, more like a crocodile - fast when he needed to be and just as dangerous and deadly.

Still, Jamie moved in lightening quick and made a quick jab at River's abdomen, followed by a solid round house that hit River in the face. River seemed to ignore the belly punch but spun back at the impact of the blow to his head.

Both Jamie and River fell, Jamie with the strength of the punch and River for the same reason. They hit the desk that was tucked up neatly on one side of the room. It was an old desk with dovetailed drawers and worn from years of boys working on and around it. Apparently though, it met it's match when it came to fighting Winchesters because it splintered under the collective weight of River and Jamie.

They both sat in stunned silence.

A moment later the door to their room opened and the DS walked in, "What the hell?"

They scrambled together like a six legged colt, arms and legs struggling to stand amongst the desks' rubble.

"Sir!" Jamie croaked.

"Drill Sergeant" The DS amended.

They stood at attention, Jamie and River as rigid as poles. Jamie felt the small trickle of blood from where River's punch had landed in the place where bone and skin had little in the way of flesh. Jamie knew too that River's eye had to be red and was probably already starting to deepen in the dark plum and purple that signified a black eye.

They were so screwed.

The boy found his booik


End file.
